Second Chances
by 20140997
Summary: Hermione goes back to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year. But someone else has come back, someone she never expected to. Can she forgive him for what he's done, and give him a second chance, or can some things never be forgiven?
1. Prologue: Another Beginning

"_Second chances. But me, I say there are spots that don't come off ... spots that never come off, know what I mean?"_ – Mad-Eye Moody

* * *

It had been three long months since the famous Battle of Hogwarts, and now it was early August. Hermione had spent the last two months living in Harry's apartment – her parents didn't leave her any money or a house before they were tracked down by Death Eaters and savagely killed, as they had no idea they had a daughter. Hermione couldn't find a job anywhere, and had barely any money to her name. Harry was more than happy to share his vast amount of money with her, but she wanted a place of her own.

Harry and Ron (who still lived with his mother at The Burrow) had been in Auror training for several weeks; they were top of the class already and when Hermione thought of them she often had to stop herself crying with tears of pride. Her two best friends had grown up to be mature, responsible men. They often told her that she would be an excellent Auror, and asked her why she didn't sign up – she was one of the few who were still allowed in Auror training, even though she didn't sit her N.E.. She responded that she didn't know what she would do – she wanted to be a Healer, however you needed to sit the N.E. examination to get an apprenticeship...

Suddenly, a plump brown owl tapped on her bedroom window. She jumped, and hastily opened the window. The owl dropped the letter in her lap and flew off importantly. Hermione looked down at the familiar letter in her hands, shocked. It read:

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

Hermione was shocked to say the least. She picked up the second piece of paper in the envelope and read it, hardly aware of what she was doing. It contained the list of books and equipment needed for seventh year at Hogwarts. _There must be some mistake, _she thought.

Hermione noticed another piece of paper, tucked up inside the envelope. She opened it, this time paying more attention. She recognised the handwriting as Professor McGonagall's.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I'm sure you're very shocked to receive this letter – no, there hasn't been some mistake! It has come to my attention that you wish to be a healer (Mr. Potter made that quite clear), however you have not graduated from Hogwarts, not have you sat the N.E.W.T examinations. This is understandable, considering you played a major role in the end of the war. _

_I consulted my fellow staff members, and every one of them has agreed that you possess more than enough talent and will-power to make it through your seventh year. You are more than welcome to attend. I hope you will consider this opportunity, and we all wish to see you soon. You will be welcomed back whole-heartedly._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress_

_P.S You have been chosen as Head Girl, if you decide to return._

Hermione stared at the page, still shocked. Finally her brain clicked, and a joyous smile cracked out of her shocked features. She was going back to Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 1: Misconceptions

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall had not forced Hermione to ride on the Hogwarts Express this year. Hermione didn't know if she could stand any more ogling – her journey to Diagon Alley had been bad enough. _You'd think people would at least pretend not to stare, _Hermione thought, _give the respected war veteran some peace and quiet. But _no. _They still gape at me like a zoo animal._

Hermione sighed. She had run in and out of every store as quickly as she possibly could, trying to make the journey as short and painless as possible, which turned out to be little over five minutes and _very _painful. When Hermione returned to Harry's apartment (he was thrilled she was going back to Hogwarts and a little jealous) Professor McGonagall's Patronus was there, a cat identical to her Animagus form, giving Hermione directions to reach the designated spot in the Hogwarts grounds.

Professor McGonagall had arranged for the wards protecting Hogwarts from anyone Apparating or Disapparating in or out of the grounds to be taken down for one minute, during which Hermione was to arrive near the black lake. Hermione was to Apparate into Hogwarts the day before term started, so she could at least have some time to settle in again. She appreciated that.

* * *

The next day, Hermione Apparated into the grounds will a small _pop_ and looked around at her familiar surroundings. She was astounded that the castle had somehow been repaired to almost perfect condition. The last time she saw it, during the Battle of Hogwarts, it had been in near ruins, undistinguishable from its former glory. Only a couple of things had changed; an extra tower had been added, the hospital wing looked as though it had been expanded marginally, and there was a small monument near Dumbledore's white tomb, a statue of a large golden phoenix with the names of everyone who had died in the war.

She approached it cautiously, as though it might jump out and bite her. Harry had told her about it, of course – it was his idea to build one on the Hogwarts grounds. She stood and stared for a minute at its quiet beauty. She circled it, searching for and finally finding her parents names. She found many other names she recognised; Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Fred Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Dobby, Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black ... the list seemed endless. Hermione didn't feel sad, she didn't cry, she just stood and admired the terrible beauty.

It took a second to notice the tingling on the back of her neck that usually suggested she was being watched. She whirled around, surprised, to see a swish of an expensive cloak, and a retreating figure, but nothing that could identify the mysterious figure. Her reflexes must be getting worse. How frustrating.

She walked back up into the castle, lost in thought, and smashed right into Hagrid.

"Hagrid! How are you?" she asked, beaming, overjoyed to see him. He had dropped and armful of books onto the marble floor, but seemed to have already forgotten them. Obviously he was happy to see her, too, because he swooped her up into his arms and swung her around in a big circle.

"Hermione! Yer back!" he practically yelled.

"My – ribs," Hermione gasped. Hagrid gently put her down. She caught her breath. "Didn't Professor McGonagall tell you? I'm coming back to do my seventh year," she said, "I can't _wait_ until tomorrow. It's so good to be back!" she ran at him again, hitting his sturdy body with a _flump_. "I've missed Hogwarts so much!"

"Yeah, well, I'm glad yer back, Hermione," he pat her back awkwardly. "Teh be honest, it's a lonely place without yeh or Harry or Ron, I tell yeh. Lonely place." He shook his shaggy head. There was a small silence.

"Well, I'd better be going back to my common room, it's getting late and I have a big day tomorrow," she grinned. "It was good to see you, Hagrid."

She helped him pick up his books, and walked off happily, her mind on the delicious start-of-term feast, all thought of the mysterious person watching her gone.

* * *

Hermione wandered the grounds, observing other small changes. The Whomping Willow had grown almost unbelievably big (Hermione wondered if it'd had some help from Hagrid's pink umbrella); some portraits had been changed or moved around. Hermione was relieved to find no major changes, just inconsequential ones. Finally she ended up in front of Professor McGonagall's office.

Hermione knocked tentatively on the door, which swung open by itself, inviting her in. Professor McGonagall looked up at Hermione, smiled, and got up to greet her.

"Miss Granger. I am so glad to see you," she said, her normally stern tone a shade softer, more inviting. "I trust you made it into the ground alright? Have some tea."

"Oh yes, thank you," Hermione replied. "I noticed some of the improvements on the castle, and I also saw the monument. Very beautiful, and respectful, Harry did a great job. And then I ran into Hagrid."

"He must have been pleased to see you." Professor McGonagall smiled, in a knowing sort of way. Hermione laughed.

"That's one way of putting it. I thought I'd have to visit Madam Pomfrey with a broken rib before term even started!" Professor McGonagall smiled, but glanced down at the large pile of papers on her desk. "Don't let me keep you, Professor, I'm sure you have things to do."

"Yes, of course, but first there are some things you should know. The new Head Tower is located –"

"_Head Tower?_" Hermione exclaimed. Professor McGonagall gave her a disapproving look. "Oh, I see, the new tower ... sorry, Professor, I thought I'd be staying in Gryffindor Tower, I'm just surprised."

"I thought you would like the privacy better than a whole year group of Gryffindor girls to get to know again. Although I'm sure Miss Weasley would have welcomed you wholeheartedly. No, you will be staying in the Head Tower. It is located behind the painting of Alfred the Armless on the eighth floor corridor, just poke his nose and he'll ask you for the password – hippogriff – though I should warn you that he can be a bit slack, we're searching for a new portrait. You'll be able to change the password once you get settled," and almost so quietly that she didn't want Hermione to hear, she added, "and you'll be sharing the tower with the Head Boy."

Hermione choked a little bit on her tea, then groaned. That was something she could do without. Some boy constantly ogling at her for the whole year, they'd have duties together, classes, probably even a shared bathroom ... ugh. Hermione was _not _looking forward to that.

"Right. Anything else I should know then?"

"The Sorting Ceremony begins at seven o'clock tomorrow, so don't be late, and please don't leave the grounds until then, safety wise, but otherwise you are free to do as you wish. And Miss Granger," she said as Hermione began to stand up. "Thank you for coming back."

* * *

Hermione cheerily walked down the stairwells, surprised at how much she had missed them. She forgot to jump the trick stair and ended up knee deep in the stairwell. She sighed, ready to hoist herself out of there. She heaved with all her might, and toppled out, rolling down a few stairs gently. Her face was red and she was tangled up in a heap. She thought she heard a soft chuckle, but when she looked around nobody was there.

Shrugging, she figured she was just imagining things. She got up, brushed herself off, and headed to the eighth floor corridor.

When she arrived, she knew exactly which painting was Alfred the Armless. He was a small wizard, who looked remarkably like Professor Flitwick, except without any arms, and massive bushy eyebrows. She poked his nose.

"What do you want?" it growled at her.

"I want to get in the Head Tower. I'm Head Girl." Hermione coolly replied.

"Sure you are ... what's the password then? Hmm?"

"Hippogriff," she answered calmly.

"Oh, fine." The portrait swung open.

Hermione peered inside the opening, but she couldn't see anything. Carefully, she climbed in and the portrait swung shut.

She cautiously walked into the main room of the Head Tower. It looked a bit like a lounge room. It was a pale blue, circular room with sofas, armchairs, a coffee table ... altogether it was very charming. Hermione wandered around the room, secretly delighted that she would be staying here instead of in Gryffindor Tower. It was much more secluded.

Hermione noticed a small winding staircase in the corner – intrigued, she climbed it, passing a cream coloured door. She assumed this was the bathroom. Hermione tried not to think about sharing a bathroom with the Head Boy, but thoughts popped into her head anyway. _Oh Merlin, I hope he isn't a lazy slob, _she thought, _these is _no way_ I'm cleaning up after him!_ Hermione kept climbing, to find two doors at the very top of the staircase. She assumed one was her bedroom and the other was the Head Boy's, but which was which? One door was emerald green; the knob was a sparkling silver colour that took Hermione's breath away. The other was pale beige, the same as the bathroom door. As Hermione grasped the handle, the whole door turned a rich ruby colour, with a smart gold doorknob. Hermione guessed the red door lead to her bedroom, seeing as she was in Gryffindor.

Hermione figured it out, and groaned. _The Head Boy's in Slytherin, _she thought, _how could this possibly get any worse? _Hermione thought hard. _That would mean he'd already been here ... what if he's in his room? What if he's in _my _room?_

Hermione chose not answer her own rhetorical question, but stepped through her door into her bedroom. She gasped. The room was sort of semi-circle shaped, and simply _beautiful_; there was a large red-brown bookcase absolutely _filled _with books, a window with a breathtaking view of the black lake, a giant red-and-gold quilted bed with enormous fluffy pillows, a large weathered-looking maroon armchair next to the bookcase, a small loveseat under the window, a desk with piled books on the chair, and a small fireplace. It was quite a large room. Hermione guessed that the Slytherin Head Boy's room was a similar shape, but a mirror image. She didn't know whether the furniture would be the same, though. Had Professor McGonagall decorated their rooms differently, according to their own individual taste?

_No one would know, _she thought, _I could just open the door and have a quick look, for education purposes, of course._

Hermione exited her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She pressed her ear to the green door, and heard nothing. Hermione assumed that meant no one was inside. Very slowly, she twisted the knob and gently pushed, opening the door.

She let out a quiet gasp. The room was just as beautiful as hers, maybe even more beautiful, but in a very different way. While hers was peaceful, quiet, very feminine, this room was dripping with masculinity. Hermione already felt attracted to its owner without even knowing who it was. There were many things similar to her own room; a large green and silver bed, a writing desk and a fireplace. But there was just _something _about it that was irresistible. She had to stop herself jumping onto the bed.

Then Hermione realised – it was the _smell_. She sniffed the air, intoxicated. There was something there that smelt so good. It was a mixture of a woody smell that Hermione came to associate with broomsticks, and something sharp and spicy, like aftershave. She followed the scent, sniffing in the air. She heard someone clear their throat amusedly behind her, and whirled around, alarmed.

There, leaning against the doorframe and smirking as if he'd been there the whole time, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"M – Malfoy?" Hermione squealed. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he replied, still smirking. "You are in _my_ room. Is it not clear by the decor that one across the hall is yours? Dear me ... the brightest witch of her age may be losing her touch."

Hermione's eyes bulged with shock. "_You're _Head Boy?" she gasped.

"It would appear so. Did McGonagall not tell you? And what exactly are you doing in my room anyway?"

"I ... I was just trying to figure out if our rooms were the same," she stuttered. He raised his eyebrows.

"Well now that you know, would you mind leaving? It's hard to get the stench of Mudblood out of the carpet." He smiled like he was making a joke.

Hermione smiled right back at him.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," she replied calmly, with a glint in her eye. "I wouldn't want to get too close anyway. I'm allergic to ferrets, you see."

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was _good._ She smiled angelically up at him. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Well, this has been just _great_, but I've got things to do, so I'll see you later," she called over her shoulder as she left the room. "Oh, by the way, I call first shower in the morning!" And with that she disappeared into her own room.

Draco sat on his bed, thinking. The Hermione Granger he once knew had grown up. The annoying, know-it-all had become a sharp-witted, attractive woman.

He shook his head. _Attractive?_ He shouldn't be thinking about her like that. He barely even knew her anymore. But he couldn't deny it. She _was _attractive. Her bushy hair had calmed down once she had left puberty, leaving it long, shiny and sleek. She was curvy in shape but slim. Something about her was so ... right.

Draco swallowed noisily. He had to stop this. It would never work out. Ever. She was Muggle-born, and his parents were obsessed with blood purity. She was best friends with Harry Potter, and he was an ex-Death Eater. She was a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin.

In short, they were total opposites.

This was going to be a long year.


End file.
